


Shadow Architect

by Psychopersonified



Series: Kidnapped!Q [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Action, Banter, Bond does spy things, Established Relationship, Humour, M/M, Plot, Q does quartermaster things, Snark, Technology, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: Next instalment of the Kidnapped!Q series.---“Q…,” Bond says it as seductively as he can, “Would you like a ring?”“What?” Q’s fingers pause on the keyboard. The Ops Room falls suddenly silent.“What’s your ring size?” Bond tries again.“Depends on where the ring is supposed to go,” Q parries immediately, pushing his glasses back up his nose and resumes typing.Behind him, Mark chokes violently on his hot coffee...---
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Kidnapped!Q [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782712
Comments: 21
Kudos: 205





	Shadow Architect

**Author's Note:**

> I've borrowed heavily from the movie SPECTRE but this isn't a fix it. The plot is entirely different though some themes remain. You might find me poking fun at the movie at different points as well. 
> 
> This arc is written in a TV series format, each instalment is an 'episode'. So I apologise if its a little confusing at times with flashbacks to provide context. I thought it would break up the monotony of a slow building 'novel' style writing. Hopefully it works. 
> 
> If long story arcs are not your thing, I have other light hearted series that can be read as standalone stories on my dashboard.

**Mexico City**

**_Present day…_ **

Q leans over his terminal in the centre of the Ops Room tapping away on his keyboard. Over the comms he can hear Bond padding around the hotel room wrestling with the ironing board. The idea of Bond doing chores still feels surreal. If there was one thing that Q never expected would drive him crazy about living with him (and not in a good way) was the laundry. James is especially particular with the ironing, borne out of boarding school and military ingrained fastidiousness. Q’s generally not allowed to do the laundry anymore if James is home - not that he minds. The pained horror on his face the first time Q tried to be nice and do a combined load of their laundry - you’d think he’d just committed a war crime. 

Turns out, Bond requires his whites blindingly pristine, the points of his collars arrow sharp and the creases on his dress shirts and trousers _exactly_ just so. His usual dry cleaners is blocks out of the way of Q’s flat, but Bond flat out refuses to try any other closer to home. Apparently Mr Jabil of ‘Jabil Superclean’ understands the cleaning and pressing needs of ex-military personnel. Q tries not to roll his eyes every time Bond attempts to impress upon him the importance of a perfectly starched collar. 

So Bond does all the ironing including Q’s work clothes. For all his academic achievements; at home, Q is only qualified to fold and put away non-work clothes. He rebels passive-aggressively time to time by deliberately mismatching Bond’s suits in the wardrobe and enlisting the services of the cats to roll on the said suits that Q sometimes ‘forget’ to put away quickly enough. No one would believe him if he said Bond wields a lint roller as professionally as he does a Walther. 

Then there’s the difference between making the bed and _making-the-bed_. Perfectly fluffed pillows arranged at equilateral distance from either side of the edge, precision folded corners of the bedsheet, and who the hell tucks the duvet between the mattress and the base? The end result is a bed so tightly made one could bounce a coin off it. 

Sometimes when 007 is bored like he is tonight, he regales the Ops team on call (especially if its Q) with reviews of the hotels they’ve booked him into by the skill of the made bed. 

“007, might I remind you that you’re there on a mission of the utmost importance to national security and not an episode of The Hotel Inspector.” 

“I’m just performing additional profiling of the target. Frankly, if this is his favourite hotel, I can’t imagine he’d have a good grip on his business,” there is the telltale sound of a steam iron hissing.

“Pray tell, how did you come to that conclusion?” Q asks absently. He’s compiling the schematics of the hotel in Mexico City, overlaying it with the sensor readouts from the swarm of tiny robots that he had 007 release inside the premises.

Each smaller than a thumbnail, highly mobile even on vertical surfaces thanks to the gecko skin polymer analogue on the underside, equipped with microsensors like LiDAR and wifi-jacking tools. Almost all the higher level computing happens in the cloud controlled by a machine learning AI back at HQ, so the little robots are mostly just microsensors with basic programmable behaviours. 

Once Q hacks into the hotel’s system, the swarm can piggyback off it to create a mesh network - a secondary surveillance system all controlled from the Ops room. He can reposition the swarm to cover blind spots or even infiltrate secure areas beforehand, cutting down the risk to their operatives. 

The biggest weakness is unfortunately the battery life, a tiny solar cell allows them to top up charge, so they are programmed to favour light sources which is a good place to hide out of the way and monitor anyway. But it is not always effective indoors where the light source is intermittent, so they have to be careful about not overusing them. They do have Qi-charging capabilities, so if there is a charger pad anywhere on the premises, the little robots can be told to find their way to it for a top up. 

In earlier lab tests, they found the robots converging adorably around a Qi charger pad like little bees around a flower - jostling each other off the pad in their frenzy. But soon the swarm programming ‘learned’ how to queue, taking turns to maximise efficiency. Q-Branch thought it was a mind-blowing bit of machine learning; everyone else thought it was creepy. 

Q hasn’t told the higher ups that the swarm have since taken a step further, learning to _charge each other_ \- forming a chain to pass the current along; and in some cases, coming to the rescue of a ‘fallen’ comrade by donating a bit of power each to revive their buddy. This behaviour gave Q the idea to make specialised sherpa robots carrying larger capacity batteries that could go around resupplying the others - which someone pointed out was the beginnings of a social hierarchy.

One day Q is going to have to stop long enough to think of the repercussions of his creations… like if his robotic swarm is on its way to developing inconvenient ethical issues like sentience. Or what does the Shadow Network he’s about to test mean for the future of privacy and cybersecurity. But for now, Bond’s voice draws him back to the present. 

“No attention to detail,” Bond tuts in regards to the target. He puts away the freshly pressed shirt and rewards himself with a sip of his Scotch. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell if your sublime genius is under-appreciated or if you’re just a snob.” More clicking and tapping from Q’s end. 

“Why can’t it be both?” Bond starts on the trousers. 

“I think it’s likelier that it’s the later. “ Long pause as Q continues his typing and Bond just goes on pressing his trousers. The screen blinks suddenly and the entirety of the hotel’s servers collapses into Q’s Shadow Network. 

“Hmm… Right. We’re in.” Q announced, with no small amount of pleasure. - _In_ \- is an understatement. He isn’t a two-bit hacker dodging IT firewalls - the Shadow network envelopes the entire system by shunting all network traffic into it like a black hole while maintaining appearances to the outside world. The main network is now subservient to his invading programming; taken from within as it were. Q doesn’t need to dodge anything he - _is-_ the Shadow Administrator. 

That was unnervingly quick Bond thinks. He’s not even finished his finger of Scotch. “Do you feel the power surging through you, dear Overlord?” 

“I’m tingly all over. Does that count?” Q takes a sip of his tea. - _Too easy-_. That was entirely too easy. 

Perhaps Mallory was right to be concerned. M had capitulated just days after he made Q put his Shadow AI away. Apparently the chat with GCHQ and the Foreign Secretary forced his hand. He’d let Q try it out to assess its practical potential with a warning that if it did work and word got out, it would be open season on him - every agency in the world would be looking for him and so would every criminal organisation. 

Really, he should consider programming tighter safeguards into this Shadow Network… but first things first. 

“ _ALL_ over?” Bond smirks into his drink. 

“Pull yourself out of the gutter please 007.” Q runs a systems check, “Now go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“No bedtime story?” Bond downs the rest of his drink and puts away the iron before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Back at HQ, Q is monitoring the AI as it collates all the data from the multiple sensors it has control over (optical, LiDAR, infrared, hotel wifi etc.) into a visual representation for its human handler. Little blue dots start populating the screen before coalescing to show a three dimensional wireframe of the hotel. The picture is a representation of all known activity in real-time. Q has to admit internally that this was partly inspired by Silva’s work, but Q has taken it several leaps forward. 

The visual information presented does not stop at physical activity, but includes network activity - any device connected to the hotel wifi is tagged to the most likely physical location; and when that tag lights up, it means there is data traffic streaming though. If Q wanted, he could have the AI drill down into a specific device and examine the data, provided it is unencrypted. He might not be able to read the encrypted data (for now…), but he will have the meta-data (when, where, who, etc.) - still valuable information to improve situational awareness. 

The granularity of information and the clarity of which the AI presents it was… _incredible_. Q has to pause, fingers laced behind his neck, leaning back against the station behind him to take it all in. Bond might have hit on something there, he really did feel a measure of omnipresence and this is only a partially operational system. 

Behind him, he can hear chairs squeaking and scraping as the skeleton crew in the Ops Room does the same, taking a moment to collectively marvel the milestone. 

All it takes is a few keystrokes for Q to tell the AI to look for Bond. The screen shifts, zooming into the 2nd floor of the hotel. LiDAR scanning image of his room pops up in a separate window. Bond is out of scanning range in the bathroom, but they can see everything in his room - they know the exact dimensions of the room, the size of the Scotch glass on the writing table, the distance between his gun on the writing table to the door. 

On a hunch, Bond peeks out of the bathroom and looks directly at Herbert or Herbie, the mini robot about the size of an AirPod case. It is the largest robot in the swarm that doubles as the mobile power bank. Herbie is sitting dormant on the nightstand on its charging pad, except for its LiDAR that’s providing the image.

“Q, I know you’re testing out the system. Can you see me?” he says around the toothbrush in his mouth. The blue scanned image of Bond leans against the bathroom doorframe. It’s so high res they can see the three dimensional folds of the towel Bond has wrapped around his waist. The _only_ thing he’s wearing. 

_*Ahem*_ “Yes, we see you,” Q tears his eyes away from examining the planes of the agent’s muscular frame, forcibly suppressing memories of how they feel under his hands. On another window, they have 007’s Smart Blood readout on display, his blood alcohol level steadily climbing as the Scotch enters his system. 

“Story?” Bond reminds as he ducks back into the bathroom to continue brushing his teeth. ‘Bedtime stories’ is a prompt to give Bond a summary of his day. A way for James to feel connected and keep abreast of Q’s life while separated. Code for pillow talk for the lack of a better word. 

There isn’t much to update, he’d spent most of the day with the AI and in 007’s ear so Q goes for comedic filler.

“Once upon a time, there was a brilliant grey hat hacker with a promising career in encryption. One day a very stern fairy godmother caught him doing something good little hackers shouldn’t. So she locked him in a tower and told him he needed to choose a side with the tacit agreement that if he accepted her wonderful gifts of full scholarships, 5.6 weeks annual paid leave and guaranteed yearly bonuses - she would eventually give him the run of a rag tag bunch of scientists in the basements of an iconic but secretive organisation headquartered in Vauxhall just on the Albert Embankment next to the A3036,” Q does his best impression of Jeremy Clarkson. 

“The alternative was to languish in the dungeons of the very same building serving out time for youthful indiscretions. He said yes and today runs a daycare for geriatric operatives who think parking assist on a car is the height of technology,” Q finishes, disdain plainly obvious in his tone. 

Bond nearly sprays the bathroom mirror with a mouthful of toothpaste rinse, “A little humility wouldn’t hurt.” 

“If only you could see what I’m seeing right now…” Q’s attention fixed on the main rendering of the building. He’d found their target in the 5th floor penthouse suite. One of the swarm robots has snuck inside. He is literally watching Marco Sciarra in bed about to fall asleep. Fortunately, the stunning Donna Lucia is not with him or Bond risks having to give an encore performance of his Geneva mission. Q requests a scan of the room so Ops can examine it before telling the robot to power down until morning. 

“Don’t let the power get to your head Shadow Master,” Bond might be joking; but like M, he is nursing a degree of concern about the repercussions of Q’s AI system. 

“Shadow Administrator or Shadow Architect if you please,” Q corrects not just Bond but the rest of the room, in case the undesirable nickname sticks. 

“Yesss Masster…,” Bond mimics the voice of a grovelling Igor, which sends the Ops Room snickering. 

Q sighs fondly. “Alright enough. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Q’s voice has taken on a roughness that comes with exhaustion. It must be the crack of dawn in London now, Q has been on since the morning before. 

Bond draws the covers up around him, “I like your bugs…” voice heavy with drowsiness; the combination of Scotch and Q’s calming voice a powerful relaxant.

“Oh which reminds me, mind putting Herbie on the floor? Time for it to go to work,” the previously hidden little robot ‘eye’ suddenly rolls around, optical lens activating. Bond waves into the camera. Herbie comes to life, spindly spider legs popping out the side.

Bond picks it up and sets it on the floor, it turns around in place orienting itself and deciding the best crawling stance for the type of flooring before scampering away under the bed to cross the room and squeezes itself under the door. 

“Q… just wondering, does Herbie come with… explosive talents?” He checks the gun inside the bedside table before settling himself deeper into the pillows. 

The Ops Room is still staffed and Q can feel the eyes of those within earshot turn to him. 

“Anything can explode, given the right… persuasion,” he answers non-committal. 

A sleepy smile that no one can see spreads across Bond’s face, “Permission to rephrase. Can Herbie explode on command?”

“Herbie… has means to adequately make its presence known,” then very softly, “Good night James.” 

“Morning Q.” 

————-

**_::FLASHBACK:: Two weeks ago…_ **

**NATO HQ - Boulevard Léopold III, Brussels, Belgium**

The auditorium is chock-a-block with people. Nerdy engineering types mostly, though there is the odd smattering of secret agent types as well, likely handlers and bodyguards from the various agencies represented here at NATO’s massive compound in Brussels. They are easy to spot, in this low risk environment some have unprofessionally let their guard down - openly bored and nodding off, whilst their technical counterparts scribble and type furiously.

It’s the third day of a four day symposium on cybersecurity. The UK’s National Cyber Security Centre (NCSC) is among the thirty or so agencies/universities presenting and hosting technical workshops. Saying that the NCSC is presenting is a misattribution, it is Q that is presenting (with some reluctance) his Shadow Network Cyberdefence concept under the banner of NCSC. Parts of it have been declassified and the UK’s intention is to help allied countries apply their own version in their country if they so chose. 

Technical papers for the concept were sent out only the week prior due to last minute debate about how much of the technology UK wanted to disclose - in the end it came down to share the concept, not the actual programming. The paper quickly became the dark horse of the symposium. If nerds had rockstars, this was a sold out concert. Half an hour in, and the organisers gave up trying to eject people and let the attendees take up any standing room and spill out onto the walkaways between the seats. 

The full day presentation and workshop was taxing on the quartermaster. To minimise exposure, MI6 only cleared one presenter with a few NCSC personnel as coordinators. He was hounded with emails and requests as soon as the paper went out. The intensity of interest took the agency aback and Mallory wisely took up the suggestion that Q should have minder during the conference. 

That is how 007 ended up standing in the darkened passageway off to the side of the auditorium stage. It gave him a good vantage point to survey the crowd and keep out of the way. Some of his counterparts are hunkering down here too. A French DCSG agent is playing with a pack of cigarettes, dying for a smoke. Another from Belarus has been sexting non-stop with a potential date, if the inappropriate grin and awkward stance is any indication.

And then there is Felix from their friends across the pond. Surprise, surprise. “So, the computer nerd is the new Quartermaster?” 

“Old news Felix,” 007 mumbles back. They’d acknowledged each other over the last three days but had not spoken until now. 

“Perhaps. Still intriguing though. Did you guys run out of baby boomers or did you just like the look of this one? Quite the belle of the ball too…,” down on the stage, Q is trying to wrap up. The Q&A session had run 20 minutes overtime and the organisers are having trouble winding down the discussion. It seems every programmer in here wants a say. Frenchy with the nicotine addiction looks like he’s about ready to throttle someone when another engineer commandeers the mic to ask a long two part question. 

“Why are you here Felix?” As James, he’s proud of Q - that his genius and brilliant work is getting the credit it deserves. As Agent 007, he’s honoured to be working alongside him, but worried as well. Too much buzz and it will draw the attention of the wrong people. 

“Its a fascinating topic, we’re interested just like everyone else,” Leitner replies nonchalant. 

“I get why your boffins are here. But _you_?” Bond challenges him. 

“I just thought that, as long time… friends, we could have a private tete-a-tete.” 

Now we’re getting somewhere Bond thinks. Below them, Q finally manages to wrap up his technical discussion by forcibly shutting down the projector. The crowd starts to thin out. Bond goes down to collect him, extracting Q from the last of his most persistent fan base. He has had plenty of practice in the last few days. If it weren’t for 007’s surly intimidating presence, Q wouldn’t have had two minutes to himself.

“Remind me never to do this again. I’m not made for the rockstar life,” Q says under his breath as he packs up. He enjoys technical discussions, but with the steep rise in cyberattacks globally the past year, there was more than a hint of desperation as countries clamber to level the playing field. Everyone was drowning and Q just threw a potential lifesaver into the water - the mad scramble is understandable. 

“You’re not presenting tomorrow are you?” 

“Thank goodness no. I’m having second thoughts about even attending tomorrow.”

“And deprive your fans of your presence? Surely not…,” he mutters in a low voice standing by Q’s elbow and gauging his reaction. Bond knows Q’s tired, the slope of his shoulders and wilting posture tells him so. “Speaking of fans, our friends in the CIA would like a little chat.”

Q sighs, turning to look at Bond and then at Felix lurking in the passageway. He trusts Bond implicitly; they are not obligated to talk to the CIA outside of the formal channels but if Bond thinks it’s important, then he will go along. 

They meet at a cafe within the compound of the headquarters. Felix has his own brood of programmers to mind, so he settles them across the cafe before coming over and introducing himself. 

“This Shadow Network concept is impressive. We’ve had serious discussions on how we might implement it. Agent Felix Leitner, Mr…?”

“Just Q. Thank you. Great to hear, though we’d appreciate it if you’d use a different nomenclature for yours. We’ve already purchased the domain names for ours,” Q shakes Agent Leitner’s hand. 

”Right…,” Leitner regards him nonplussed, the awkward geek humour flying over his head. “As I was saying, it’s very well thought out. And you seem very confident it will work. Almost as though you’ve had hands on experience instead of it all being just a technical theory.”

“Well… we have started implementing the concept and it has been promising so far. Again mileage may vary depending on your training samples and programming,” all truths, if Q was talking about their progress five years ago. Five years headstart, no one else needs to know that.

Felix is politely unconvinced, “Yes. It would seem so. However, my guys tell me this machine learning requires extensive training, correct? For it to… ‘evolve’ to a point where it would be an effective defence system. That would take - _years-_. Considering the threat of cyberwarfare today, some of us do not have the luxury of time. We’d like something we can implement, preferably yesterday… if you know what I mean.”

Ahh… So that’s what this is all about, “Then I would suggest that your people start building their algorithms immediately.” Q counters stubbornly. He glances at the table across the room, the table of American programmers quickly busy themselves with whatever reading material available. 

Next to him, Bond’s body language still conveys easy nonchalance, but the arm slung casually over the back of Q’s chair is an indicator of protectiveness. 

Q tries to be amiable, “Our technical paper is available to all member states for review, we’ve consciously made it as detailed as a possible for it to be helpful—,”

“—Yes but some countries have entered into security partnerships to share data that would help law enforcement agencies counter serious crimes and terrorism; threats that might endanger national security,” Felix pushes his case. 

“Agent Leiter, if you’re referring to the CLOUD Act; you’re overreaching. I believe it only covers the collection of electronic evidence. It says nothing about sharing of technology.”

“Some agencies might have a broader interpretation of the agreement,” Leiter tries.

“Well, whatever the interpretation might be, perhaps we should leave bilateral negotiations to the diplomats?” Q shuts him down. 

Felix realises he is going to have to give before he can get. “Alright then. Then perhaps let me leave you with something to ponder over.”

“You recall our mutual friend Kim Min Jun? You might be aware that his $PECTRE ICO went very well. His crypto just opened for public trading on all the major exchanges.”

“Yes, we’ve been following his progress on and off.” 

“Then you’ll know that the market is stunned by its meteoric rise in the last six months. $PECTRE’s market cap is now in excess of five hundred million US dollars, right on the tail of Ethereum Classic. Any idea why?” Felix tests them. 

Q shrugs, nothing interesting here, “Surely this is the jurisdiction of the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA). They are notified of all the information we have on $PECTRE. Perhaps you should speak to them.”

“What if I told you $PECTRE is a front. A decentralised shadow banking system facilitating transaction and transfer of funds globally.”

“That’s nothing new Agent Leiter. It’s basically the entire appeal of cryptocurrency—”

“—Only $PECTRE’s major investors are somewhat more unconventional - just your neighbourhood dictators, warlords, mafias, terrorist, assassins and the likes. Our friend Sciarra has been traipsing around the world getting his contacts to buy into the scheme,” Felix leans back against his chair, “Or haven’t MI6 noticed? Didn’t you manage to plant a virus in his computer?” he needles them.

Agent 007 gives nothing away but Q looks chagrined. That struck a nerve. Yes they managed to get a virus into his computer, but had run into a wall. Sciarra’s laptop held no significant data except a scant few programs that were access portals into a secure system elsewhere. The system was much more secure than anticipated and also requires a physical authenticator for access. Q could try hacking in, but from the looks of things, it won’t be easy and they run the risk of alerting their target to the attack. So unless they were ready to move in, it would give them no tactical advantage to brute force his way in. It was all rather vexing.

Unless… Q was working on a more subversive method, one that was to turn the current Shadow Network MI6 uses as a shield outwards; into an offensive tool. But at the moment, it has not cleared the necessary regulatory hurdles - i.e. Mallory doesn’t know yet. 

They can confirm however that Sciarra is a node in the $PECTRE network, though by the looks of it not a significant one, he does not have enough computing power to influence the hash rate of the $PECTRE blockchain. But the way a distributed ledger works, all of $PECTRE’s major investors are likely incentivised to be a node in the network - giving them skin in the game and decentralising power from any one player. They ensure no one can take over the hash rate (51% attack) and create false forks in the chain. One way to build trust among thieves. 

“If you have evidence of illicit funding, why not let the relevant authorities take care of this? Have the DOJ use the Magnitsky Act to freeze the funds.” Q digs in. 

“We would, but it will take years to build a case based on financial fraud for each individual and entity. Especially when it involves multiple national jurisdictions, meanwhile money is being moved across borders to buy weapons and pay for assassinations toady,” There is frustration in Felix’s tone. 

“And we have to do it all at once, or risk alerting the others to disappear back into the woodwork. If we can trace the transactions, prove that they are a channel for funding terrorism, then it would give us cause to mount a more aggressive coordinated strategy. We have an opportunity here to put a serious dent in their operations.” Felix echos what Q was thinking earlier. So the CIA had come to the same conclusion as MI6 - be ready to move on them altogether otherwise don’t spook them.

This is above Q’s pay grade. If it wasn’t for the technology, Q shouldn’t even be involved in this conversation. Bond is the Double-O agent here, this is his prerogative. But the agent seems content just to sit there, thumb drawing circles between Q’s shoulder blades as he listens to the back and forth. 

“Look, both of you. I’m going to be blunt here. If you won’t lend us the technology, how about you lend a hand? Sciarra will be in Mexico City meeting with a potential investor in two weeks, see what u can find out.” 

Q and Felix regard each other for a moment before they both slide their eyes over to a silent Bond. The bastard finally animates under their gaze, drawing a deep breath and nodding, “I’ll take this up with M.”

That seems to satisfy Felix for now. Q excuses himself to the bathroom before they leave for their hotel. 

“Thanks for helping out there, didn’t you have anything to say?” Felix directs his sarcasm at Bond. 

Bond raises both hands in submission, “I’m just the muscle today. Also, it was fun watching you squirm.”

“Is he always this condescendingly stubborn?” 

“When he wants to be,” Bond shrugs enjoying Felix’s discomfort. 

“Just out of curiosity, are you two—” Bond lets his smile drop, cutting Felix off with a glare.

The other man is rendered silent for a moment, deciphering the look, “Huh… you always had a thing for the feisty ones.”

“Did you ever find out what Sciarra was looking for in Silicon Valley?” 

“A blockchain or encryption expert. There’s not much chatter now though. He’s either given up or found what he’s looking for, though we haven’t heard anything.”

“Any cause for concern?” Bond asks when he sees Q walk back towards them. 

“Never hurts to be cautious.” Felix leaves him with that and goes to collect his own engineers. He overhears Leitner say to them _‘Sorry kids, they’re not sharing toys today.’_

—————————

**_::Back to Present… ::_ **

**Mexico City**

That is how he’d ended up here, just four days after Q’s harrowing attempted kidnapping. 

Bond spent breakfast studying the 3D scan fo Sciarra’s suite. Marvelling at the cutting edge if somewhat intrusive technology. They’re looking for an authentication or security device. A thumb drive, a phone, a token on a key fob, a smartwatch - it could be any one of these. 

He’d been watching Sciarra all morning, studying his movements and mannerisms. With so many possibilities, Bond figured it might be easier to use a process of elimination. They can rule out anything in his room that was unattended. If he had anything in the safe, that might be a possibility. If he put that aside for now, it would likely mean anything on his person. He carried no bag or briefcase. The wallet and phone he treated with no extra care, leaving the items on the table in plain sight as he sat by the street cafe talking with his contact. 

Then he catches a brief movement, an unconscious fidget; Sciarra twisting the ring on his right hand. Bond zooms in using the high powered scope. It looks familiar, he’d seen it in the 3D scan of his room on the nightstand, the man takes it off when he sleeps. Sciarra is a flamboyant dresser, the dull plain metal ring incongruous amidst the flash of his ensemble. You’d expect more gold and gemstones, and ostentatious signet ring perhaps. Bond would place good money on that being the authenticator. 

“Q…,” Bond says it as seductively as he can, “Would you like a ring?”

“What?” Q’s fingers paused on the keyboard. The Ops Room falls suddenly silent. 

“What’s your ring size?” Bond tries again. 

“Depends on where the ring is supposed to go,” Q parries immediately, pushing his glasses back up his nose and resumes typing. 

Behind him, Mark chokes violently on his hot coffee. Q turns around to see the damage. Deputy Head of IT Mark is red-faced from coughing, there is coffee splatter all over his station. Someone comes over with a box of tissues. 

“Ss-oo-rry!” Mark wheezes his apology to the room. 

Over the comms, Bond hisses, “Christ Q, you have to be careful with those. I’m five floors up on a roof ledge.” 

“I’m referring to _which_ _finger_ ,” he glares disappointedly around him. “What were _ALL_ of you thinking?” he reprimands everyone including 007 in the same breath. Then turning back to the main screen, “Now pay attention to Sciarra.”

“Yes about that. Can you have a look at last night’s scan of Sciarra’s room again? Specifically the ring on his bedside table. Could that be what we’re looking for?”

A few moments of silence as Q manipulates the scan. “There are markings on it… looks like an octopus?” 

“…$PECTRE’s logo.” They both say at the same time. _BINGO_. 

“But he would need a way to connect it to his laptop to be of use.” Q thinks out loud. 

“NFC chip in the ring,” Mark interjects now that he’s recovered. “There is a small USB dongle attached to the port on his laptop. Must be an NFC reader,” he continues. 

“Am I going to need to retrieve the reader as well?” Bond looks for clarification as he readies himself to get off the roof. There’s murmuring in his ear as Q and Mark discuss. 

“Readers are usually generic, but given that $PECTRE’s tight on security, there is a likelihood that it needs to be a matched pair or at least issued by the same system.”

“Great…,” Bond sighs. Then he takes them through this thought process, “I’ll have to retrieve the reader first then the ring as he’ll once the ring missing immediately.”

More murmuring in his ear. Down below, Sciarra shakes hands with his contact. A small box is exchanged and they start to part ways. 

“Whatever you do, it has to be today. Sciarra only has the room booked till tomorrow morning,” R pipes up from her station. 

“You know what 007, you focus on the ring. We’re going to try something with the reader. We’ll report back in a few hours.” Q signs off. 

“As you wish,” Bond acknowledges as he pushes himself up to make his way back down. 

—

They ended up having to time the extraction perfectly. 

The penthouse suite on the 5th floor is guarded, so they place a false complaint call to the concierge about a leaking toilet demanding that they send a man up to check asap. 

Though Sciarra is lounging by the pool in the courtyard, one of his henchmen is guarding the room. Herbie the spider robot waits patiently behind a potted plant by the outer door before scampering in as soon as the door opens. 

Henchman accompanies the maintenance guy to the bathroom, his suspicion focused on him. The conversation with the plumber also distracts him from the sound of the central HVAC turning off momentarily before turning on again. Warm air starts to waft out of the ventilation system. 

Back in the bedroom, artificial gecko skin on the underside lets Herbie climb effortlessly up the table to the unattended laptop. Once Herbie has a lock on the small USB dongle, it wedges four of its eight legs into the gap between the connection and starts wiggling. The connection is surprisingly tight and little Herbie struggles to find purchase on the glass table. 

A few minutes go by, henchmen and plumber finish their inspection. The dongle is barely loosened. In a final attempt, Herbie flattens itself on the glass - using the entire sticky gecko skin underside for traction and with an explosive release of actuator motors in its legs, it tugs the stubborn dongle free. Herbie and the dongle tumble across the table onto the carpeted floor together, just before the two men exit the bathroom. 

Once the coast is clear, Herbie flips itself over and grabs the dongle again, four of its eight legs bent backwards, wrapped around the dongle, holding it in place on its back. Herbie scrambles back to the living room with its prize, hiding behind a convenient chair leg. 

Henchman has parked himself in front of the telly, and beginning to notice the air in the suite warming. Agonising minutes go by, until finally he gets uncomfortable enough to open the balcony doors to let fresh air in. 

A well timed call from reception distracts henchmen and Herbie rushes out to the balcony overlooking the courtyard. It teeters on the edge, tiny camera eye looking below for a particular someone that matches its facial recognition database. 

“Bond, are you ready?… Catch!” Q instructs in his ear. 

Herbie locks on to Bond’s position and dives kamikaze style from the 5th floor straight into 007’s waiting hands. Bond catches it flawlessly, quickly pocketing the dongle. Herbie however has one last job to do. Bond drops it into the barbecue pit the hotel restaurant is just starting up for the evening meal. 

He then saunters casually over to Marco Sciarra. Pausing as he passes the lounging man as if to do a double take. 

“Mr Sciarra is it not?” Bond exclaims pleasantly. “We met in Geneva, on a party boat. What’s his name… Mr Kim! Yes his ICO a few months back,” he extends a hand.

Recognition. “Ahh yes… you’re the private security contractor. With the talented programmer Kim was so pleased to meet. Sorry I seemed have have forgotten, Mr…?” He takes Bond’s hand. 

Just as he does, Herbie in the fire pit with a little help from a very tiny amount of plastic explosive packed next to its lithium battery, self immolates. The resulting bang sends charcoal embers flying out of the pit and is loud enough to give everyone around the pool a bad fright. Staff come running out to check the commotion. 

The moment of distraction is what Bond needs, he slips the ill fitting ring right off Sciarra’s hand. With Sciarra still dazed, Bond completes the introduction, “Bond. James Bond.”

He slips away quickly after that, into a waiting cab with his luggage already in it. 

On the way to the airport, his phone rings. 

“Do you have them?” Q asks as soon as he answers. 

“Good job James. You were brilliant James,” Bond mocks Q with the praise he’s never heard the quartermaster direct at him. It wouldn’t hurt for Q to be more encouraging. 

“Yes, yes. Alright. You’ve been a good boy. Thank you for not blowing up half a block and endangering the public unnecessarily. Now, do you have them?” 

“Of course. What do I do with them?” 

“Plug it into your laptop and follow the instructions. We’ll need to get in and grab as much as we can before Sciarra realises the ring is missing and informs the system administrators to revoke his access.” 

“Done,” Bond waits for the laptop to confirm they have copied information off the NFC chip and the reader. Q-Branch can replicate a virtual authenticator on their end and remote into Sciarra’s laptop without delay. 

Once he’s stowed everything away again, he looks out the window and says almost nostalgic, “Herbie was a good boy too.” He really was starting to like the little-robot-that-could. 

“Goodness sake Bond, don’t anthropomorphise the robots. Besides, they’re plenty more in the lab. We designed them to be cheap and easy to replace.”

“What happens to the rest of the swarm?”

“Self-destruct; albeit less dramatically. I have them programmed to look for the toilet or sink drain. No one would think twice about flushing them down the pipes.” 

“Can I have another Herbie?” Bond asks like a child asking for icecream. 

“Yes of course,” Q reassures him.

“It reminds me of you,” Bond adds with teasing sentimentality, knowing the rest of Ops is listening in. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Just get on the plane.” Q replies mildly exasperated. 

\---TBC---

* * *

**For those who liked Herbie, here are a few concept Herbies that inspired me.**

[Hexa](https://youtu.be/5OQrAyfnBBo) and [Festo](https://youtu.be/jGP5NxcCyjE) are actual products, watch the video they're pretty cool. Just imagine Q's Herbie to be much smaller and faster. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next episode... more action to come. I'm going to have to hurt Q so brace yourselves. 
> 
> Herbie is named after Bond’s middle name Herbert. Someone pointed it out in the comments and I googled it, seems legit. 
> 
> Q’s backstory can be found in the “Netflix plot summary” on the dashboard.  
> And I encourage everyone who enjoys my writing to read the other series as they provide additional context and layers to the characters. 
> 
> Please kudos, comment if you enjoyed this. Always fun to hear from readers.


End file.
